


Doctor/Soldier Heiffel AU

by FifthLegionFulminata



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Eiffel's got PTSD, M/M, Poor thing., Soldier AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 07:35:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12228441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FifthLegionFulminata/pseuds/FifthLegionFulminata
Summary: Its pretty self-explanatory, but Hilbert's a doctor and Eiffel's his patient. Its just a one-chapter thing.





	Doctor/Soldier Heiffel AU

Eiffel hated doctors. Well, to be specific, he hated the doctors at the Veteran’s Affairs Clinic, which were the only ones he could go to most of the time. Due to his circumstances, he was able to visit for free even if he didn’t like a single doctor there. They didn’t understand which was the source of his anger- not a one of them had ever dealt with the shit he had dealt with and as a result none of them knew how to help him. It was frustrating, especially since he wanted the help, desperately. He was so tired of waking up screaming in the dead of night, clawing his way out of sleep in terror as his best friend raced into the room to check on him. He was tired of being tired all the time and not being able to sleep, tired of the panic attacks when a car backfired or a balloon popped or whatever the fuck set him off, but he was especially tired of the pain. The pain that came every time he struggled to get dressed, that came when he had to knot the sleeve of his shirt so it wouldn’t hang there, empty, or when he struggled to get dressed without toppling over because his stupid fucking fake leg is being useless as always. But when he speaks to the doctors there at the VA clinic, he just smiles at them. He jokes with them, flirts even, keeping it all tucked away out of sight because there was no way in hell that they gave a shit about hearing how he really felt. He had tried before, the doctor had “uh huh"ed him until he stopped bothering. As he walked into the office that day, however, things were different. His usual troupe of doctors weren’t available, the secretary said, and he’d have to use a new doctor from now on. He felt anxious as he waited for him in the exam room, trying not to fidget and failing so when the doctor finally came in he was caught trying to retie the sloppy knot he had made that morning. 

He felt like a startled deer when he saw the older man walk in, freezing with the end of his sleeve in his mouth. The man looked back in an unreadable expression, still standing in the doorway, before saying in a low, accented voice. “Would you rather I came back in a moment?” Eiffel takes the sleeve out of his mouth, feeling embarrassed and panicked at the thought of having to wait here even longer. “Oh, no you’re good. I just hate it when the knot is sloppy, is all. I was in a rush this morning.” The doctor slips into the room fully, closing the door behind him, and approaches Eiffel. Most of the time the doctors come in, ask questions, prescribe something, then leave. They don’t even bother to sit down, and they barely ever deal with him physically, so when the doctor grabs the loose sleeve and gets to work on it Eiffel doesn’t know what to do. So while the doctor is carefully re-tieing the knot in his sleeve Eiffel studies him. Hes older than him, with a few gray hairs in his wild looking red-brown hair that he’s attempted to tame by cutting it short. His beard is the same color and is as short as his hair- both of which frames a rather severe face. He wears square-shaped glasses that definitely don’t help his case, but his eyes are lovely. Dark brown, so dark they’re almost black, with long lashes for a man. He’s so distracted by them that hes still staring at him even after he’s done with his sleeve. The doctor raises an eyebrow infinitesimally, before saying quietly, “I am Doctor Alexander Hilbert. You are Douglas Eiffel, yes?” Eiffel starts in surprise before almost desperately saying “Please, just Eiffel.” Doctor Hilbert nods, writing something down on a piece of paper attached to a clipboard before glancing back up at him. “Your chart says that you are a double amputee, both on right side with full amputation in right arm and below knee, da? And that is it. That is all this chart says. Other than ‘he is chatty.’” Hilbert looks briefly angry as he stares incredulously at the chart. “Please, Eiffel, would you remove your shirt?” He kneels down in front of him while Eiffel struggles with the buttons, lifting his pants leg to inspect his prosthetic. 

He immediately stops when he sees how bruised and raw his stump is, then he launches into a tirade in Russian under his breath. “Uhhh, Doc? Is everything okay down there?” Eiffel leans over to see what he’s doing, looking confused and curious. Doctor Hilbert stands, dusting his knees off, and looks up at Eiffel, trying to keep his emotions in check. Eiffel’s torso is crisscrossed with scars that covers his right side with his shoulder being especially bad. Hilbert looks at him, his expression unreadable, as Eiffel looks uncomfortable at the close scrutiny. He gently inspects his shoulder, speaking quietly as his works. “Thank you, Eiffel. Tell me, do you suffer from night terrors? How about panic attacks? Anxiety? Insomnia? Phantom pains?” Eiffel sounds almost desperate when he finally replies, his eyes closed like he had been waiting for years for someone to ask. “Yes.” “Yes to which, Eiffel.” “All of them.” Hilbert’s breath catches momentarily before continuing on. “And for how long?” “Since I woke up in the hospital, sir.” Hilbert hides his anger when he sees the look on Eiffel’s face by busying himself with writing on his clipboard as Eiffel fumbles with the buttons on his shirt, Hilbert noting that they are designed to be buttoned with the right hand. “Please excuse me for a moment, Eiffel. I must speak to someone briefly but I will return and we will continue, alright?” He stomps out of the room, and Eiffel kicks his foot in boredom until he hears shouting outside. It sounds like Doctor Hilbert, and he’s pissed, saying something along the lines of “I have double amputee in exam room, and you are telling me that none of you thought to ask if he had suffered from PTSD?!” He had spoken to one of his doctors about not being able to sleep before. They had said it was due to stress, and not to get worked up over it. When he mentioned the phantom pains, they gave him painkillers with a suspicious air, like they thought he was a pillhead. They had seemed to be half-listening and critical the entire time, and both interactions had left him feeling so low that he stopped trying. He figured that he would just deal with it and that would be that, but here was a doctor that asked him something and listened to his answers. He nearly hugs Hilbert when he returns with different prosthetic than what he has on, it was one of those that were designed to bounce when you walk allowing you to move less jarringly. Hilbert kneels down again to try it on his leg, nodding in approval over something before standing. “There. Now, Eiffel. Are you on any medications for anxiety?” Eiffel shakes his head, unable to look up from staring at his shiny new appendage. Hilbert growls in frustration and he sounds apologetic when he sees the anxiety on Eiffel’s face. “Not irritated with you. Doctors here should have had you try something, da?” Eiffel glances at him before muttering that they did try, but he quit taking them when he wanted to kill himself. Hilbert doesn’t seem surprised by this statement, before saying slowly, “Eiffel, I apologize. You should have been taken care of years ago, and I am sorry you haven’t. We will try this medication for anxiety for now, da?” He shows Eiffel the name, paroxetine or something before writing a prescription. He mentions offhand “You should order shirts for left-handed people, will help you get used to buttons,” before he leaves. 

Eiffel leaves the building feeling hopeful, more than he has in years, and he tells his roommate all about it. Hera is excited for him, hugging him tightly before asking him what he wants for dinner. They enjoy watching an old b-movie while eating pizza before going to bed. Hera spends the entire time watching trying to break down the plot, interjecting, “I’m telling you Eiffel, that guy is a robot. Calling it now.” “Holy shit, I was right.”, and Eiffel almost sleeps through an entire night for once. During his follow-up two weeks later Hilbert notes that he seems less anxious, but is still apparently having trouble sleeping. Eiffel is chatty, however, telling him about some horrible movie he watched the other week with delight before cracking a joke involving some pop-culture thing Hilbert knows nothing about. While he talks Hilbert steadily writes on his clipboard, asking questions about what Eiffel is referencing every now and then. When the check-up is over he’s pleased to see that Eiffel is walking easier, and his shirts are now the left-handed style. Hilbert has him come in every two weeks, making sure that he’s adjusting well to the new leg and anxiety medication, and checking up on how he’s doing mentally. Eiffel spends most of the time in his exam room venting about something thats irritating him while Hilbert closely studies his shoulder and leg for any issues, most of it about how he was right handed before his convoy was attacked and the problems that comes from learning how to do things over again, or when he falls over in the morning from time to time because he was so tired he forgot he wasn’t wearing a prosthetic. Sometimes he spends the time telling Hilbert about some prank he pulled in bootcamp, many of them against his Drill Sergeant, a woman named Minkowski. Eiffel’s green eyes glitter mischievously when he asks, “Hey Doc, did I tell you about the time I put pics of Nic Cage on every surface of Minkowski’s jeep?” “Niet, but I would like to hear how she handled that particular problem. You sound like terrible person, Eiffel.” Hilbert chuckles softly at the image of the chaos that must have occurred in his head. Eiffel launches into his story, his eyes alight in malicious glee as he talks about sneaking into the vehicle bay to plaster the same bizarre photo of Nicholas Cage on every conceivable surface. “And she thought that I had gotten them all, cause when she made me clean it up I made sure to get the obvious ones and a few of the hidden ones to throw her off the scent, but I left one on the bottom of the steering wheel and another under the cover for the gas tank. It was three weeks before she found the one under the steering wheel, cause she dropped something by her feet and saw it. I thought she was gonna explode, but you can imagine how she reacted when she saw the last one.” Eiffel’s giggling at the memory, his eyes watering in laughter over a well-planned prank, and even Hilbert has to smile. 

The next time Eiffel shows up however he’s sluggish and almost delirious from sleep deprivation, having been unable to sleep due to night terrors and insomnia, his hair falling into his face and dark circles rimming his eyes. Hilbert has him lay down when he sees him, concerned immediately, and goes to get a blood work kit to see if it has a source other than PTSD. Eiffel’s reaction to the needle is extremely worrying, as he can see all the blood drain from his face the moment he sees it. “Eiffel, are you alright?” He briefly touches Eiffel’s shoulder to get his attention, and Eiffel jumps. “Huh? Oh, yeah Doc. I’m totally fine, right as rain and whatever.” Hilbert is unconvinced but continues, drawing blood from Eiffel’s arm. Eiffel knew he shouldn’t have looked. He knew better, he abso-freaking-lutely knew better but it was like a magnet drawing his attention. He hated blood. He hated it so much that his mind rioted at the sight. He doesn’t even notice that he’s starting to hyperventilate, he’s only thinking about how much blood there was when the convoy exploded around him, how much it soaked into the air as his friends died around him, some of them taking hours to die as he lay pinned beneath the overturned Humvee. Hilbert freezes the moment he hears Eiffel’s breathing speed up, removing the needle from his arm and quickly bandaging it well so no blood will seep through. He puts his hands on either side of Eiffel’s face, wrenching his gaze away from where he stuck the needle and forcing him to look at him instead. “Eiffel. Eiffel, look at me. Deep breaths, alright? Count them.” Hilbert counts along slowly, making sure that Eiffel follows along until his breathing returns to normal while his hands are still cupping his face. “Eiffel, are you alright now? I am done, you don’t have anything else to worry about.” Eiffel nods slightly, and Hilbert lets him go, keeping a wary eye on him as Eiffel covers his eyes with his arm, his mouth set in a frown. “I am going to leave for a moment, wait right here.” Hilbert leaves, taking the blood sample with him. Eiffel lays there trying not to cry and failing, ashamed of himself for crying and for losing it over just a little blood. Hilbert returns quickly, and he feels his heart squeeze when he sees Eiffel crying in complete silence, his eyes still hidden by his arm. He wonders what he should do when Eiffel hears the door close, looking mortified when he sees him standing there. He sits up and wipes his eyes on his sleeve quickly, horrified when he can’t seem to stop his eyes from welling up. Hilbert hesitantly walks up to him and comes to a decision, carefully wrapping his arms around him. “I am sorry, Eiffel. I should have stopped when I saw you get upset.” Eiffel doesn’t say anything, clutching Hilbert’s shirt in his hand and hiding his face in his shoulder like a child. They stay like that for a long while, before Eiffel slowly sits up, his breath hitching every now and then. 

He’s a pitiful sight, his eyes red and teary with strands of hair sticking to his face. Hilbert gently tucks the errant hairs behind his ear, then hands him a handkerchief which makes Eiffel laugh wetly in surprise. “Holy crap, you have an actual handkerchief. I didn’t even know they made these anymore!” He looks at it in wonder, completely distracted by his delight at such a uncommon accessory and missing Hilbert's sigh of relief when he sees him laugh. Eiffel begins chattering about some character from some show that apparently still uses handkerchiefs, and Hilbert is pleased to see that he’s recovered from his episode as he listens to him. “Eiffel, have you considered getting a service dog? They are quite useful, and you seem to be the kind of person to like dogs.” Eiffel looks at him in surprise, then appears thoughtful. “You know, I did for a while once I heard that they can wake you up from night terrors, but its super hard to get one. Theres a lot of hoops to go through and apparently they cost a lot of money.” Hilbert shrugs, saying offhandedly, “Perhaps you should apply. Would not hurt. Would you like me to get the applications?” Eiffel looks excited at the thought, which Hilbert takes as a yes. He brings back the papers and watches as Eiffel carefully fills them out, trying to make his handwriting neat. When hes through Eiffel grins at him, saying cheerfully, “Hey, my handwriting is getting better. Yay me!” Hilbert makes sure the application is correct before smiling slightly at him. “I’ll see that this is taken care of. Go try to get some sleep, Eiffel.” Eiffel hops off the exam bed, mindful of his leg, and says goodbye as Hilbert leaves. 

The weeks fly by, with Hilbert continuing to have Eiffel come in even though his blood work is clear. He’s still having some trouble sleeping, but thats happening less frequently. He and Hera go on “dates,” which is Heras way to help him get out of the house. She’s gay and he’s bi, so its entirely just him being Hera’s wingman, delighting in her embarrassment. There aren’t a whole lot of people that want to date two and a half quarters of a person, so getting out and spending time with someone who enjoys his company and doesn’t stare at his empty sleeve is incredibly pleasant. They’re arguing about the social influences of memes as they walk to dinner, Hera proclaiming that “They are a plague on humanity, I don’t care how much you like malicious advice mallard!” as Eiffel argues his case, gesticulating wildly. They get to the restaurant, Eiffel flirting with their waitress on Hera’s behalf, grinning as she repeatedly kicks him in the leg. When they leave, he throws his hand up in triumph when he sees the waitress’s number on the receipt, holding it out of Hera’s reach while he crows over his victory. “I am the best one-wingman in history! I just got you a date without you doing anything other than apologize for me! Worship me, mortal!” He eventually gives in to her pleading, giving her the receipt with a flourish, and they walk back to their apartment arm in arm while discussing what Hera should wear to her date; Eiffel being adamant that it ought to be “Nothing.” When they get off the elevator their neighbor pokes her head out of her apartment, looking kind of relieved. “Oh, Hera! Eiffel! Hey, I think the new mailman gave me the wrong mail, sorry!” She hands them a couple of envelopes and a stack of magazines, apologetic, before vanishing back into her apartment. He flips through them, most of it is Hera’s tech mags and random letters from phone companies, but there is one for Eiffel. He hands it to Hera for her to open as he unlocks the door to their apartment, switching on the lights and flopping onto the couch. She tosses the contents onto his chest and sits cross-legged on the arm of it, her attention absorbed by whatever new whatnots are announced in her magazines. Eiffel picks one thing at random looking at it briefly before sitting up in shock. “Holy shit. Hera.” She looks at him, her eyes slightly glazed in thought. “Hera, I got a dog. Holy crap, I actually got a dog! Hera, I can’t take care of myself, how am I gonna take care of a dog?!” He looks at her in panic as she looks back in bafflement. “Wait wait wait, you got approval? Thats amazing, Eiffel! And I’m like 90% sure that those dogs take care of themselves, they may even do your taxes for you. This is great!” Eiffel looks at the paper that lists the process he has to go through from there on out. He’ll need to get a ride to their training facility and learn how to handle a service dog, and then he’ll be matched with one. After, he’ll have to return to the facility every six months for retraining. Hera is more than happy to take him, so the next morning they drive out to the countryside and see doggy bootcamp. Inside the nondescript gray building is a representative waiting for him, who takes him on a tour of the facility before showing him to the person who will be handling him for the day. He undergoes an evaluation to see which dog would be best for him, after which he’s introduced to Sasha, a beautiful German Shepard who seems just as rambunctious as he is. From there he learns how to groom her, how to understand her whether shes asking to go outside or when shes alerting him to an oncoming panic attack, along with everything in between. He’s honestly feeling like this is a dream as he learns everything she can help him with. Bringing him his shoes, helping him get doors, waking him up when he’s having night terrors. Hell, she can even play dead! His military stipend is pretty decent, enough that he can pay rent and feed himself even if he has to be a bit stingy with buying things he wants, so to his relief its well within his ability to take care of Sasha properly. He can’t help but wonder how much its going to cost him to get her, but he’s informed that its already been taken care of. Just a few signatures later and hes leaving the facility with her trotting behind, grinning tentatively at an emotional Hera who proclaims that she’s the most beautiful dog in the world. They pop by the petstore on the way home to get her some things, Eiffel insisting that everything be hot pink because that is obviously Sasha’s favorite color, thoroughly enjoying himself as they shop. 

By the time they get home, Eiffel is beginning to fall asleep in the car, lazily petting Sasha as she props her head on the center console. He sets her food and water bowls up in the living room before collapsing into bed, staying awake just long enough to take off his prosthetic before passing out. He’s just starting to feel the creeping suffocation that comes with his night terrors when Sasha licks his face, waking him up completely, and its thanks to her intervention that he’s able to sleep until 10 a.m. with no further issue. He gets up groggily, feeling rested for once, and takes Sasha on a walk. He decides to drop by the V.A. clinic to see if Doctor Hilbert is in so he can meet Sasha and luckily catches him as he’s going in to work. “Hey, Doc!” Eiffel beams at him, waving to catch his attention. Hilbert looks around in what seems to be irritation before spotting Eiffel and smiling just a little, looking satisfied when he sees Sasha. “Eiffel, good morning. And who is this?” He kneels down, ignoring the filthy sidewalk to scratch Sasha’s ears as he asks. Eiffel bounces a little in excitement, his voice proud as he speaks. “This is Sasha, and she is the best pupper ever and the most beautiful, even Hera says so. She’s also smarter than me, so theres that.” Hilbert is briefly confused by Eiffel’s use of the word ‘pupper’ but mentally shrugs it off while chalking it up to his personality. “She is lovely, and seems to be very well trained. Who is Hera, is the the roommate you’ve mentioned? Has she helped you with anything yet?” He looks up at Eiffel while still doting on Sasha, and notes with pleasure that Eiffel seems to look more well rested than he did the last time they spoke. “Yep to both; I started having night terrors last night and she woke me up before I screamed and freaked out Hera. Thats the first time I’ve actually slept through the whole night with no problems in a long time, so she’s already earned her keep! But it was weird, everyone always talks about how much it costs, somehow I didn’t have to pay for her at all.” Hilbert’s face is stoic as always as he gets up, but Eiffel can tell that he’s pleased. “Good, I am happy to hear that Eiffel. And I would not fret over the cost, clearly your healthcare has made an allowance for you.” He glances at his watch as if forgetting that he had been going to work before seeing Eiffel. “Ah, apologies. I need to go. But please, feel free to drop by if you wish to chat.” He waves distractedly as he hurries into work, and Eiffel goes back to his apartment with Sasha. He begins to make it a point to walk Sasha past the clinic at 10 a.m. everyday, saying that its just because its a nice walk and absolutely not because he’s hoping to run into Doctor Hilbert, but notices that Doctor Hilbert works weird shifts. He does get in at 10 a.m., but its a crapshoot on what day he’ll be in. Whole weeks have passed without seeing him, which Eiffel totally does not feel disappointed about, and soon it’s time for him to go in to make sure that his prosthetic doesn’t need to be adjusted. Hilbert seems pleased as always to see him, kneeling to greet Sasha before rising to look at Eiffel appraisingly. “How has leg been treating you, is it better than last?” Eiffel shifts uncomfortably, admitting after a moment that it had been making his hips hurt if he walked too long. Hilbert makes an aggravated face, which Eiffel realizes is directed towards his prosthetic and not him after a nervous moment. “Eiffel,” Hilbert says after a thoughtful moment. “I have a..proposition for you. May be helpful to you. I work for a company that specializes in medical technology, and I have been asked to help my coworker find someone to build a series of advanced artificial limbs for testing. Would you be willing to assist? We would allow you to keep them, and any new models would be made available to you for no charge.” Eiffel doesn’t even seem to hesitate before agreeing. “Uh, duh I would like to get a super cool robot leg. When can I go?” Hilbert writes down something before answering. “I leave the clinic at 4 today, we can go then.” Eiffel’s stomach does a funny little jump at the idea of going somewhere with him, and tries to hide his flustered expression before Hilbert can notice it by patting his knee to get Sasha to stand with her paws in his lap. Hilbert watches him love on Sasha for a moment before telling Eiffel that he’ll see him at four and leaving to check on his other patients. He’s distracted in between check-ups, thinking about the way Eiffel looked while he was flustered, how his face was slightly flushed and the way his hair fell into his face. It feels like days before its finally four, and he tries not to get excited when he sees Eiffel wrestling lazily with Sasha outside. 

He’s holding a toy- some kind of weasel thing- and making Sasha fight to get it from him. Hilbert could honestly watch them all day, and would have done so gladly if Eiffel hadn’t looked up when he hears the glass door swing open. “Hey Doc!” Eiffel always seemed to be grinning or laughing when he sees him which made Hilbert feel almost overwhelmingly warm inside. “Hello, Eiffel. Are you ready to go?” Eiffel bounces on the balls of his feet like he’s impatient to get going. “Absolutely, lets get out of here.” Hilbert walks them to his car, opening the door politely for Sasha and Eiffel both before getting in. On the way to the facility Eiffel begins to have a panic attack and he can’t figure out how it was triggered, frustrating him almost to tears. He tries to slow his breathing as Sasha sticks her head under his arm from the back seat, whining. Hilbert doesn’t even need to look at him to know somethings wrong, he just casually reaches over and lays an arm around his shoulder. Eiffel looks at Hilbert in surprise and when he sees he’s not able to look over at him he uses the opportunity to watch him as he’s driving, letting his mind stay distracted while he evens out his breathing. Hilbert parks the car, getting out and letting Sasha out of the back seat so she can climb into Eiffel’s lap and nudge his arms around her. He nonchalantly rubs Eiffel’s back while he waits for him to speak. Eiffel snuggles into Sasha’s fur for a minute before letting out a sigh and sitting up, looking at Hilbert with an expression of exasperation. “I don’t even know why that just happened. God, I’m so pathetic.” Hilbert gently smacks Eiffel on the head, growling a little in irritation. “There is nothing pathetic about you. If you are feeling good enough to complain then you must be feeling better.” Eiffel stares at him in shock, and something like disbelief. “You just hit me. Thats patient abuse! Malpractice! Negligence!” Hilbert crosses his arms, his voice deadpan. “You have no proof. Now come, let us go speak to my associate instead of sitting out here arguing about whether or not I hit you, da?” Eiffel follows after Hilbert while laughing to himself, and into the building where apparently Hilbert’s kind of a big deal. Everyone is looking at them in obvious curiosity, but they pretend to be busy under Hilbert’s glares. Eiffel wishes he had dressed better when he sees all the tailored, elegant clothes everyone’s wearing- even if some are partially covered by a lab coat- and is frankly confused, since he thought Hilbert was just a VA doc. 

Hilbert doesn’t acknowledge anyone on the way to what is apparently a restricted area, ushering them inside before flipping on the lights, revealing a massive lab full of machine parts and computers with a few of what looks like disembodied metal limbs scattered around on tables. Hilbert motions for Eiffel to sit in a chair. “Eiffel, I will be blunt. This procedure has not been done before, you will be the first. You may not even see any results- it may fail completely. And the procedure is uncomfortable by nature, I cannot do it with local anesthetic because I need to ensure that the connections attach properly before I can continue. You will also need to undergo physical therapy, you will have to relearn things again. Are you still okay with doing this?” Eiffel looks at him, his expression serious. “Well, its not like I’ve got anything to lose by trying it. I trust you, Hilbert.” Hilbert nods, thinking for a moment before speaking. “If you are sure. Will you take off your shirt, I need to check your shoulder once more.” Eiffel tries not to blush, grateful that Hilbert is too distracted by whatever he’s doing to notice his beet red face. Hilbert puts a metal device against his right shoulder, seeming pleased with what the thing displays before looking at Eiffel gravely. “Eiffel, one last chance, do you still want to continue? It will hurt, but it will only last for a moment, I promise.” Eiffel laughs a little, looking at him with a strangely intense expression. “Well duh, I already told you I trusted you. Go ahead, doc.” Hilbert pats him on the shoulder as he gets up to grab something out of a cabinet. He comes back quickly, wiping off the area where Eiffel’s right arm used to connect to his shoulder before pressing what looks like a custom metal device against his skin, stopping for a moment and looking at him. “Eiffel, close your eyes and do not open them until I tell you to, okay?” Eiffel nods, leaning his head back against the back of the chair and closing his eyes, taking a deep breath. Hilbert does something and Eiffel tries not to jump out of the chair, gasping in shock and pain from the sudden stabbing he feels in his shoulder. He begins to open his eyes to see what happened only to have Hilbert’s hand cover them, making sure he can’t see anything. Something trickles down his side, but the pain is gone as soon as it started and all that is left is a strange heaviness on his right side. Hilbert makes a sound so quiet he almost can’t hear it, cleaning up whatever it was thats spilled down his rib cage and removing his hand. Eiffel blinks at the return of light, looking at his shoulder curiously. Theres a kind of metal ball socket thats been fitted to his arm, clearly designed to fit him alone based off of how perfectly it seals against his arm. He starts to ask how Hilbert’s associate knew what his shoulder looked like when Hilbert begins fitting the actual arm in. Its a thing of beauty, the twin of his left arm recreated in steel and carbon fiber. Theres a twinge when Hilbert connects something inside the arm before carefully grabbing the hand and turning it, palm up. The movement feels strange- almost the way it feels to hear a recording of a recording, but he can feel it. Hilbert notices his expression and touches the tips of his fingers to the palm of the metal hand, making Eiffel yelp in surprise. “What the hell?! How come I can feel that?!” Hilbert chuckles, running his fingers up Eiffel’s new forearm gently and startling a laugh out of the other man. “This is the craziest thing, Hilbert, how is this even possible?” He almost looks smug, saying with a little pride, “There are synthetic nerves that stimulate you through small electronic pulses when they detect pressure on the surface of the arm. The connection contains tiny series of electrical connections designed to attach to the correct positions of the nerves within your shoulder. But that is just the nerves. There are also ligaments, muscles, bones. All in metal or the like, but all functioning the same. Took many years to perfect, am very pleased with final product.” E

iffel notices something about the way Hilbert is speaking, like he’s the one who made it but theres no way that he would have, it didn’t make sense. Hilbert looks at his thoughtful expression and misinterprets it, asking almost worriedly, “Are you uncomfortable? Are the nerves on too high a setting? Would you rather I have not done this?” Eiffel laughs, unconsciously grabbing Hilbert’s hand with his. “Its fine, Hilbert. I was just thinking about how crazy this is. Wait, do I only get the arm? Cause if you’ve got a leg I will gladly be the guinea pig for that one too.” Hilbert looks sort of flustered, standing quickly to get something to hide his recovery from the unexpected contact. It was different when he did it, he could claim to himself that he did it out of concern for Eiffel as his doctor and not because he wanted to wrap him up in a blanket and protect him and dote on him and- he cuts that train of thought off before he gets too crazy, grabbing what he needs off the table before turning back to see Eiffel staring at his new arm, watching the fingers move in awe. He tries to smoosh the warm feeling that swells in him in order to focus, but he can’t help but smile as he sets up what he needs. “Before I start on the leg, we have to check to make sure you can handle the arm. Here, try to pick this up.” He points to a tennis ball, which takes Eiffel three tries to grab. “Good, again.” They work on his ability to move and work his arm and fingers, Hilbert occasionally readjusting something within them to allow Eiffel to have what he calls 'training wheels.’ “ I would hate for you to smash everything you touch, so for now it will take considerable desire to move your arm. You have to think about it for at least five seconds, so allow a window of delay. After a few months of physical training I can readjust and we will move on from there, da?” Eiffel nods, grinning, and says in relief, “Awesome, so I won’t have worry about having an 'Of Mice and Men’ moment where I kill the things I love.” “Niet, Lenny.” “Why am I not surprised that you’ve read that book?” “Because I am intelligent man, that is why.” Eiffel laughs as Hilbert prepares his leg. “Just like before Eiffel, no looking.” Eiffel tenses, closing his eyes and mentally preparing himself for the sudden pain that sears through him. Hilbert works quickly, murmuring that its okay for him to open his eyes after a moment. He attaches a metal calf and foot, again the twin of Eiffel’s real one. Theres the slight sting as Hilbert connects something, and then Hilbert casually runs a finger along the sole of his foot with a curious expression. Eiffel jumps, trying not to kick Hilbert in surprise before letting out a stream of shocked profanities. “I will assume that this one is broadcasting sensations adequately?” “You’re goddamn right it is, quit it!” Hilbert has been pretending that he’s running tests on the sensitivity on the nerves in his leg while he talks, but in reality he’s just enjoying messing with him. He clears his throat, standing and trying to look professional. “Now, lets see how you handle walking.” 

He helps Eiffel up, steadying him when he wobbles and watching him like a hawk. He makes Eiffel walk uncertainly to the wall, then back to him a few times until he feels satisfied that he’s getting used to it. He makes a pleased sound, again looking almost smug, and Eiffel looks at him curiously when he sits back down in the chair. “Hey, Hilbert? You said that your associate was the one making these, but something seems off. I’ve never met the guy, hell he’s not even here, but apparently he can create a perfect match for me specifically? You haven’t drugged me or anything and had some weirdo work on me have you?” Hilbert looks taken aback and incredibly guilty at Eiffel’s joking but curious questions. Eiffel looks appalled, saying in a voice that cracks halfway through, “Oh my God, some creep did crap to me while I slept?! Jesus Christ, Hilbert! Ya coulda just asked!” Hilbert panics at the look on Eiffel’s face and is unable to stop himself from blurting out, “Niet, niet, I design limbs after I met you, only me! I drew out arm and leg structure during check-ups, checked multiple times to ensure that they were correct before designing connections.” Eiffel looks confused, saying, “But why me? There are hundreds of vets missing bits of them, you could have chosen anyone.” “Because, I..um,” Hilbert looks mortified at his unexpected confession, his face slowly turning red as he hides it in his hands and stopping himself from saying anything else. “You what, Hilbert?” Hilbert speaks into his hands, clearly not wanting to make it easy for Eiffel. Eiffel gets up, moving Hilbert’s hands out of the way so he can hear him clearly. He’s so quiet when he talks, intentionally mumbling in the hopes Eiffel can’t hear him. “I may have developed attachment. Very small. Wanted to help you.” Eiffel’s face is so close it almost hurts to look at him, with his beautiful green eyes and bright smile. Eiffel thinks for a moment, then kisses Hilbert on the cheek. “Well, either way. You didn’t have to do all this. Thank you, Hilbert.” He wonders if Hilbert is gonna short-circuit based off of the look on his face, and laughs while reaching out to hold his hand. “In case you couldn’t guess, I may have developed a 'very small’ attachment to you too.” Hilbert looks at him in shock, and Eiffel looks back incredulously. “Are you telling me that you haven’t even picked up on the fact that I have a huge crush on you, cause I have been walking past the V.A. clinic- which by the way is five miles from my house- every day at the same time just so I could see you! How can a man who designed a freakin robot arm not realize something like that?! I haven’t exactly been subtle!” Hilbert can’t even respond, like he’s in disbelief, and Eiffel leans forward to speak very softly. “Hey, Alexander. Can I kiss you?” He nods, just a little, and thats all Eiffel needs. He kisses him gently on the lips, reaching up to cup his face in his hands, and when he doesn’t stop him he does it again and again, getting bolder each time. Hilbert shivers when Eiffel licks his bottom lip, his breathing ragged, and wraps his arms around his neck when Eiffel moves his hands down to hips. After a few more intense kisses, Eiffel’s fingers digging into his hips and his hands in Eiffel’s hair, Eiffel pulls back with a gasp before looking at him with a dazed expression. “Um, so, I’ll take that as a yes you do like me?” Hilbert lets out a small laugh, trying to figure out how to breathe again as Eiffel presses against him. “That would be correct, yes.” His breath catches when Eiffel presses his face against his neck, squeezing his waist tight. He can feel his chest rumble when he laughs, speaking quietly. “Oh, well thats good. I’d hate for this to be one big misunderstanding, ya know?” Hilbert chuckles a little then gently kisses the scars that cover Eiffel’s shoulder, startling the young man. “I think you should know that I am in love with you, just in case lengths I have gone to show it have flown over your head. Quite a lot of time and money wasted only for you to wonder if I really do care for you.” Eiffel looks at him in disbelief. “Oh, flown over my head, huh? Says Mr. Totally-misses-my-doe-eyed-looks-for-eight-months. You have absolutely zero room to talk. But,” he kisses him once, then again like he can’t help himself, “yeah, I love you too.”


End file.
